


Rehab and Reparation

by Neeka



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, Healing, M/M, Post-All Out War Arc (Walking Dead), after AOW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 04:26:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14663268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neeka/pseuds/Neeka
Summary: In the aftermath of the war, Daryl somehow finds himself in charge of the remaining ex-Saviours at Hilltop.





	Rehab and Reparation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jendavis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jendavis/gifts).



“This is your fuckin’ fault.”

Even as the words were growled at him, Paul couldn’t help but smirk.

“Tough day babe?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Daryl stormed through their trailer utterly _covered_ in mud and straight into the bathroom, Paul grinning at him the whole way. Though none of them could have predicted it, Rick’s decision to put Daryl in charge of the remaining ex-Saviours turned out to be an excellent one, even if Paul often got blamed by Daryl when things didn’t go to plan.

Of course, it had seemed far from a good idea at the time, even Paul who had staunchly advocated for the Saviours worried over it.

The war had finished at last, their side taking huge loses but in the end, they won, all that was left was the cleanup and the rebuilding of their worlds. But as always, it was never easy, problems cropping up left, right and centre.

One of those was of course, the remaining Saviour POW’s. After the majority of them escaped, those that chose to stay fought for Hilltop, defending it and its people. They took loses too and even those that hated the prisoners couldn’t deny their help or part in ending the war. But what came after?

The problem was brought up at the first meeting of What The Fuck To Do Next and was one of the most hotly debated issues. Some wanted to send them off out into the world with a firm thank you now fuck off attitude, but of course some thought that was too risky. They knew a hell of a lot about Hilltop and the people of all the communities after all.

Others wanted to bring them into Hilltop permanently, let them be part of the community they fought to help. But then some people thought that unfair, that they didn’t deserve it since they’d only helped through the necessity of circumstance.

In the end it was decided that sending them away wasn’t an option. The remaining Saviours, the ones who only surrendered right at the end with no other option in sight for them, they all resided back at the Sanctuary. It’d changed a lot, even in such a short time, but everyone was aware that despite their tentative truce, it was full of people who’d done horrible things.

Paul had made a point that if the Saviour POW’s who’d stayed and helped prior to Negan’s defeat were sent back to the Sanctuary, they would hardly be accepted back with open arms. Plenty of accidents could happen when repairing a building like that; lots of high places with no rails. Al had seemed downright scared of that option, all but begging not to be sent back.

To Paul’s relief, the members of the meeting seemed to take that in and understood the truth of it, so in the end all that was left was to bring them into their communities. Daryl had, of course, argued against that decision, though he couldn’t have imagined what that argument would lead to.

Paul had stood to one side after putting his own comments forward, still not entirely comfortable with putting himself out there in a group that was so tight knit. He’d watched as Daryl got himself all worked up, pacing around, his gorgeous arms swinging about and those expressive hands gesturing all over as he ranted about what would need to happen before the ex-Saviours could even begin to integrate into the community.

Daryl was oblivious to the looks everyone else was shooting each other as he, quite by accident, put forward a well thought out rehabilitation program. He wanted each Saviour extensively interviewed to find out their skills, why they got involved with the Saviours, what they did for them, why they did it. He wanted to know where they could actually help the communities and if they couldn’t, or if they only had the basic skills everyone else had, what they could be taught to make themselves useful.

Or as Daryl so poetically put it, “what them fuckers could do to make it worth the food they eat and shit.”

He wanted them monitored too, someone who’d keep track of them, who could report on their progress and study if they were actually genuine or a hidden danger. Like probation really.

When Daryl finally wound down, most of the people in the room were wearing expressions from gawping shock to grins. Paul was of the later, always loving to watch Daryl’s incredible mind being shown, the way he saw more than anyone else and could make connection and plans that went outside the box. It was a pleasure to hear him speak so much too, even if it was out of frustration.

But the look on his face when Rick clapped him on the back and told him he obviously had it all planned out so why didn’t he do it? That was _priceless_.

Daryl protested of course, not that anyone expected any differently. Paul even worried that it was cruel to make him do that, to monitor people from the same group that hurt him so badly, but Paul was almost a hundred percent sure that the POW’s that stayed had nothing to do with any of that; they were all low down in the ranks or working for points.

Paul might have gotten them to surrender and advocated for their safety and respect as human beings, but he was far from stupid. After they’d been settled into their makeshift pen, he’d made his way around and talked to most of them or got information from the ones like Al, then he’d split them up in his head into three groups. Some he believed were innocent and had gotten swept in by circumstance, some he wasn’t entirely sure, and the last he knew were scum. Those he kept a close eye on.

When he’d done the headcount of those left before he’d gone to the meeting, he saw that none of the people in the group designated scum had stayed; they’d all been killed in the last attack when they tried to escape or managed to succeed and ran back to Negan. There were two from the unknown category but the rest were from the innocent group. Paul still wouldn’t be taking his eyes off them of course and regardless of what many thought, if any of them tried to hurt Daryl or anyone else, he’d make sure they wished they’d never been born.

Rick kept on putting forward reasons why Daryl was the best person for the job and Daryl kept throwing back reasons why he wasn’t, but everyone could see it was true. Just when it seemed Rick would be getting nowhere, he pulled out his trump card.

With a sly glance over in Paul’s direction, he offhandedly said that if Daryl really didn’t think he could do it, the only other options would be him. As much as he disliked being used in the gentle manipulation of Daryl, he kept his face placid and just nodded, pinpointing the exact moment Daryl decided there was no way in hell that was happening.

With many grumbles about Paul being too soft on them, something he internally disputed, Daryl finally reluctantly agreed. His face was like thunder through the rest of the meeting but Paul could see the cogs working in his head.

After the meeting he’d gone straight down to the trailer the Saviours were staying in and, in a manner not dissimilar to a drill Sargent or prison CO, introduced himself and told them the new score. Paul heard all of this because he was hanging around outside the trailer. Only in case things went wrong of course, not because he was admittedly nosey.

Daryl had bitched and moaned that night as they both settled in, still sharing Paul’s trailer and seeming content to stay that way for the time being. Paul couldn’t help but agree that he was the best person for the job, though he understood why it’d be hard for him. He offered any help and support to his friend and that seemed to calm him a little.

In the end, it seemed that just shooting them all would have been the kinder option; Daryl worked them like dogs, keeping them on a short leash and ordered them around with an iron fist. He interviewed them all in depth, though it was more akin to interrogation really, but seemed to accept that what he’d been told had no red flags in it.

He sent some to jobs they already had the skills for and the rest he taught new things. When Paul wasn’t busy, he loved to hang around and watch, to see how Daryl’s demeanour slowly changed over time as he worked with them.

At first he was aloof and harsh, hardly talking to them other than to find out what he needed and to set them jobs, but once he started training those left, Paul could see it all start to change. He was a good teacher, that much was obvious straight off; Daryl seemed to uncover the same patience he used when hunting and applied it to his lessons. He was gruff but encouraging, harsh but understanding and it was a joy to watch.

He also seemed different in general, like the whole process was helping him as much as it was them. Even weeks after the war finished, Daryl still lived in his trailer and Paul couldn’t help but want it to stay that way. He loved their chats as they both got back, got home from their busy days.

If they hadn’t braved dinner, the front lawn of Barrington house ending up like a high school cafeteria that was often overwhelming, then they’d retreat to their trailer early. Paul could whip up quite a bit but it was a surprise to find out that Daryl could actually cook. Sometimes he’d go out hunting and bring back things just for them, then he’d make a stew or something and honestly, they were some of the nicest things Paul had ever eaten. He could have been biased of course, but he didn’t really care.

Truthfully, anything Daryl did seemed amazing to him. They’d grown closer over the weeks and months that followed the end of the fighting and Paul felt like he was finally getting to see the real Daryl, one he’d only caught glimpses of underneath the mountains of trauma and worry. It was captivating.

Paul also noticed when Daryl’s nightly bitching about his group became less about them as humans and more personal. He started referring to them by their names, he knew personal things about them, he’d say things like, “I know Bruce could do it if he fuckin’ tried. ‘Stead he just fucks around and fails coz he don’t wanna try and fail.” Or, “I swear to God if Al doesn’t start openin’ his trap when he sees the ‘builders’ doin’ somethin’ wrong, I’ll smack him stupid.”

It was so endearing to hear and even more to watch. Paul still tried to hang around wherever Daryl and his group was because the difference was astounding; he was more like a reluctantly friendly group leader, someone who gave them shit and encouraged them in equal measure. Daryl couldn’t see it, but Paul knew they looked up to him, appreciated his subtle praise or gentle corrections.

Al himself had told Paul that it’d been so long since they hadn’t had the fear of their faces being burned off if they fucked up too badly. With Daryl, the worst they’d get was some sharp words and a swat to the back of their heads.  
  
Because of Daryl, they now fitted into Hilltop almost like they’d always been there. People had still been wary and distrustful at first, but knowing that someone like Daryl was monitoring everything gave the people confidence that if he gave the okay, then it really was okay. Slowly, they made friends and were included into the groups that sat around the long tables at meals instead of being shoved off to the side. Hell, some even found relationships.

Al had tried with Paul and as lovely as the man was, Paul had already reluctantly accepted that his heart belonged to someone else.

He’d felt it for a while, but with everything going on, it’d been easy to push it to one side, to ignore it. But once that was all over and Daryl was around him more than ever, it was impossible to deny. Of course he hadn’t said anything to the man, hadn’t said anything to anyone. He might seem confident to everyone else, but the situation with Daryl was totally out of his realm of experience.

Paul had never had real relationships before, just flings with guys he knew he’d never love or that gave a shit about him either. It felt kind of karmically ironic that he was head over heels for a guy who, by the sounds of it, had never been interested in anyone. For all the things he’d learned about Daryl since they’d been living together, his sexuality or dating history was not amongst them, and Paul knew enough not to push.

But even if nothing ever came from it, Paul couldn’t deny that everything in him was focused on Daryl and he was quite happy for it to stay that way. Al had accepted it graciously and shot him a knowing look when he caught him glance over at Daryl as he tirelessly showed two of his group how to skin and clean a kill.

More time passed and to the shock and relief of everyone, things didn’t just stay steady, they got _better_. For the first time since the dead started walking, the survivors felt like they might have a chance to live, to make a real go of it in a world that had been racing towards destruction.

Maybe they couldn’t hold it off forever, maybe it was just a brief moment of peace and calm, or maybe it really was a new beginning. Either way, Paul didn’t care, he was just happy and grateful to enjoy what they had.

He almost felt like he was in a dream; things were happening that he never thought could have or should have. Their crops succeeded to the point that they didn’t have to rely solely on supplies brought back from runs, they’d started building more permanent residences in Hilltop and repairing Alexandria, and surprisingly the ex-Saviours were doing better than anyone could have hoped.

Maggie had her baby with Carol and Paul by her side. If Paul was prone to crying, seeing Maggie’s incredible strength and grief and joy as she brought a new life into the world would have set him off with no stopping. When the baby was placed in her arms, she instinctively looked around for Glenn in her joy, face crumpling when she remembered he wasn’t there and the baby she held in her arms was all she had left of him.

Paul held her close as she worked through her mixed emotions, finally emerging from his shoulder hurting but strong as she looked at her baby. He didn’t have much experience with babies, they only ever had older kids at the group home, but Paul was pretty damn sure he was the most perfect baby to ever have been born.

When Daryl all but crashed into the room after running back from his training session outside the walls, Paul would have sold his soul for a working camera or photographic memory. He’d never seen Daryl look so soft, so _happy_ , even if there was a melancholic tint to it as well.

He perched on the side of Maggie’s bed and pulled her close, kissing her forehead tenderly. She presented her baby to him, Daryl hesitating only a moment before taking him in his arms. The look on his face defied words; cradling the tiny little baby and gently talking to him, stroking his dark little head of hair and rocking slowly.

That was probably the moment when Carol and Maggie knew for sure how head over heels he was for Daryl. He caught their sly little smirks at each other but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, he just kept staring at the sight in front of him. When Daryl turned to him, his small, restrained smile blooming into something he’d never seen before, Paul was pretty sure he was going to die, his heart full to bursting with all kinds of feelings for the man.

They must have stood there staring at each other for a little too long, Carol seemed to be suppressing a laugh as she gently relieved Daryl of Hershel and ushered them out. As the two walked out of Barrington house, their arms brushed more than once, Paul’s heart stuttering every time. He’d never felt like that before, the barest form of touch sending electric shocks through him. But that paled in comparison to how it felt when they perched on top of the picnic bench in front of their trailer and looked over Hilltop.

Sat pressed tight together, Paul almost thought it was an accident when Daryl’s fingers brushed his. They didn’t move further and Paul knew that unless he did something, Daryl would leave it, plausible deniability and all that. Paul would’ve rather died than let it go and with a deep breath, hoping to God he was reading the signs right, he made the next move, sliding his hand under Daryl’s rough palm and nearly laughing in relief when he felt those fingers clutch back.

If anyone walked past their bench, they’d see two people sat close together, one grinning like an idiot and the other ducking his head to hide his own smile. Paul didn’t want to assume he knew what it meant, but surely it meant _something_. Surely it was a sign of where their relationship would end up going. He hoped more than anything that it was.

But time and situation always seemed to dick Paul over. Daryl had just breathed deeply and turned to say something when he was called by his group of ex-saviours that stood near the gate; they still had their hunting and training run to finish apparently.

With a deep sigh, Daryl made his apologies, shy and uncertain with Paul for the first time in a long while. So Paul just squeezed his hand once more and told him he’d be waiting for him when he got back. Daryl could take what he liked from that, but he hoped he’d know what Paul meant.

They both got up and reluctantly moved in opposite directions, but neither could help turning around to watch the other, all the way till Daryl reached his group. Paul also didn’t miss the good natured chuckles and nudges he got before Daryl all but dragged them out of the gate.

With his own grin stuck on his face, Paul turned to head to the kitchens. Maggie could do with some tea at least, maybe a cookie or two, she deserved it.

The day rolled on, Paul busy with the running of Hilltop in Maggie’s absence. He felt lighter than he had in a long time, stomach swooping and a small grin finding its way onto his face to the point where it was commented on more than once. From the knowing looks of a few members of Hilltop and the ‘innocent’ questions about Daryl, Paul had to assume that they’d been the subject of gossip for some time.

It would have bothered him if he wasn’t so happy, so _hopeful_ for the first time in a long time, refusing to stem it out of fear he was wrong. Yes the nagging fear was there but more than anything, he knew Daryl; knew him down to his very bone marrow it seemed at times. And Daryl knew him too, even if they’d never fully talked about everything that had happened in their lives it didn’t seem to matter, they still just _knew_ each other.

The hours dragged on, the sky darkening above Hilltop as Paul started to feel more and more uneasy. Daryl and his group should have been back before dark, well before dark in fact, it was only a quick hunting trip. Nerves bloomed in Paul’s stomach, hoping to every deity out there that nothing had happened to Daryl or his group.

He tried to swallow his fear around Maggie, she didn’t need any extra stress after just giving birth, but inside he was terrified and he knew Carol saw that. Hell, he knew she felt it; clasping his shoulder with a worried smile, the two of them nodding at each other.

It was another half hour or so of quietly worrying when he heard a commotion at the gate. Paul barely managed to reassure a dosing Maggie before he ran out of Barrington and towards the gate.

They’d just opened it and as he got closer he saw Daryl being all but dragged between Al and Bruce. Paul felt his heart nearly stop, steps faltering as he saw the blood and scrapes all over him. The rest were all covered in blood as well, too dark to be theirs so they’d obviously had a run in with walkers.

Paul was barely able to choke out his question, which in all honesty sounded like begging, hoping beyond hope Daryl hadn’t been bit. He stopped in front of the three and at the sound of Paul’s voice, Daryl’s lifted his head.

Then, with all the grace of someone badly hurt and probably suffering from a concussion, Daryl unhooked one of his arms from around the shoulder of his helper and used it to grab Paul’s shirt and drag him in, planting a hard and badly coordinated kiss on his lips before promptly passing out.

Despite his shock, Paul still managed to catch him, relieved and tired laughs coming from Daryl’s group as they watched. After Daryl’s fucking stunt, Paul was tempted to dramatically sweep him up into a bridal hold and carry him all the way to the medical trailer, knowing Daryl would never be allowed to forget it. He’d deserve it, that’s for damn sure. Who kissed someone and then just passed out!?

As it was, Paul decided to spare him that and finally got himself under enough control to throw Daryl’s arm over his shoulder and half carry half drag his heavy ass over to Siddiq’s medical trailer, ordering someone to go get him from his room in Barrington quietly. He didn’t want Maggie hearing about Daryl until the morning; she was physically and emotionally exhausted as it was and seeing Daryl’s state would only freak her out.

He spent the next few moments in a bizarre state of shocked, worried and excited as Daryl was checked over by Siddiq and Al reported to Paul what happened, a few of the group lingering around them.

They’d been tracking a deer when they came across a herd that Daryl didn’t really want to chance taking on with a bunch who very rarely encountered them. He led the group towards Hilltop but got cut off by the other small herd they hadn’t realised was there. They had to run after that until they came across a fucked up looking farmhouse. Daryl got them all inside and up to the second floor, hoping the walkers would just pass them by.

It was all going perfectly till Daryl noticed a huge patch of wet, decaying floorboards right underneath Al and one of the others, telling them to move slowly off it. Al looked dreadfully guilty as he told Paul that they really did try, but the wood started to crack, Daryl shooting forward to push them to safety but wasn’t quick enough to help himself. He went right through the floorboards, hit the rotted wood on the first floor too and crashed right into the cellar.

Paul felt sick, incredibly glad he hadn’t had to see that, even if the fiercely protective and slightly arrogant part of himself whispered that he’d have been able to stop it if he’d been there.

Daryl had been knocked unconscious and the noise had drawn the closest walkers, a bunch of them heading for the open door. Daryl’s group hurried down to the first floor and frantically tried to find a way to get Daryl out. He came to and upon realising the deep shit they were in, ordered his group to leave him and get back to Hilltop.

Paul could practically hear Daryl saying that, the stupid self sacrificing shit. He was beyond grateful that his group had promptly ignored the fuck out of that and set up a parameter, killing any walkers as the two strongest jumped down to the cellar with Daryl. Despite his protests, they managed to get him out through the cellar door at the back of the house, shouting for all the group to jump down and follow them.

As the walkers carried on into the house, the group managed to get away from the back, hightailing it back to Hilltop as quick as they could. Daryl was concussed as fuck and apparently splitting between cursing his group out for risking themselves and mumbling about needing to tell Paul something.

Paul threw the assembled group the bird as they tried to smother their laughs, but honestly he nearly hugged every one of them. They seemed to get that though and a couple clapped him on the shoulder as they left the trailer. The few warning glares he got sent as well both surprised and amused him, but bless them for trying.

He stayed whilst Daryl got fixed up, the man in and out of consciousness with a huge bruise and fairly deep cut on his temple, a twisted ankle and a deep graze along his side. He was lucky it wasn’t worse. In fact, he was lucky he wasn’t dead. The thought of Daryl dying made him want to physically be sick, heart pounding in his chest as his hand reached out to hold Daryl’s; it was warm and rough and so blessedly _alive_.

Siddiq finished up and left them to it, eyeing up their hands with a small smile, no doubt that particular fact would be circulating Hilltop soon enough. Daryl ‘came to’ moments after Siddiq left, suspicious timing especially when Paul knew how much he hated being poked and prodded and asked a million questions. He didn’t protest though, just happy to see Daryl awake and okay.

Paul had so many things he wanted to say, wanted to ask, but nothing was coming out. For once, words failed him, too many clogging up his throat to get out; how he was glad Daryl was okay, that he never wanted anything bad to happen to him ever again.

Did he mean to kiss him?

Half of the last question managed to force its way out, Daryl nodding before he’d even finished, though the action made him wince.

Well then, only one response to that really.

Daryl smelt like blood and mud, the split in his top lip flavoured their kiss with copper but it was still the best thing Paul ever could have imagined.

The door to the bathroom jolted Paul out of his thoughts. Daryl finally emerged from the bathroom, no longer looking like the creature from the black lagoon, and collapsed next to Paul on their battered sofa. He groaned and flopped onto his back, shamelessly shuffling his head onto Paul’s lap and closing his eyes with a sigh. Chuckling at the tired state of him, Paul started playing with Daryl’s slightly damp hair, gently working out the knots and softly scratching his scalp.

The soft sigh of contentment and the total relaxing of his body made Paul smile. Simple moments like that were some of the best Paul had ever had; just the knowledge that he had someone like Daryl, that they had each other. It was still just as strange and amazing that Daryl had found comfort and solace in him, that the trust and love between them both had only grown. They made each other better, like it was always meant to end up that way, the weird jagged parts of themselves that never worked with anyone else fitting perfectly with each other.

“Stop starin’ at me, ain’ that damn interesting.”

“How’d you know I was staring at you? Could have been looking at the wall.”

“Can feel your fuckin’ bushbaby eyes on me.”

Paul flicked him on the forehead with a grin. “Fine, me and my bushbaby eyes will just go then. Not like you seemed to be enjoying getting your head rubbed or anything. Alas.”

Daryl just shuffled deeper into the sofa, suppressing a grin Paul just knew was there.

“Guess I could cope if you carried on.”

“You have my most sincere gratitude,” he replied, dry as the desert. It still managed to surprise him how affectionate Daryl could be. He wasn’t big on PDA, but then again neither was Paul, but when they were alone he was a big ball of barely suppressed sap.

Still, Paul’s hands found themselves back in Daryl’s hair, both of them relaxing after a long day, happy to enjoy the peace and knowing they were both together. Paul had never really known what bone deep peace and contentment felt like until Daryl.

“So what got you taking a mud bath then? And how the fuck did you get this bruise?”

Paul hadn’t noticed till he pulled Daryl’s bangs back that he had a bruise steadily darkening high up on his temple. He knew nothing serious had gone down, but Paul still wanted to know what happened, even if it was just to laugh at him to be totally honest.

Daryl groaned and Paul could feel a smirk building; whatever had happened must have been embarrassing for Daryl and for Paul, hilarious.

“Fuckin’ Bruce.”

“Fucking Bruce?”

Daryl sighed and repeated with emphasis, “Fucking Bruce.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Not really no.”

“Tough shit.”

Paul tried to temper his smirk as Daryl wriggled into a more comfortable position, gently nudging his head up for Paul to resume him hair stroking. How anyone ever thought Daryl was cold and aloof he’d never know.

“You remember Bruce right?”

Paul nodded. “Yeah, you bitched about him on and off for months. Bit hopeless, kept messing around instead of trying right?”

“Yeah that’s him. Well after I got cornered by them walkers he’s took it more seriously. Was totally fuckin’ useless but he was still right there with the rest of them as they worked together to help my stupid ass.”

Even if that was the catalyst that brought them both together quickly instead of the two of them hesitating and second guessing the whole way, Paul still hated that it happened. He was forever grateful to Daryl’s group.

“Well he came to me last week an’ asked me to help him one on one, since just working in a group obviously ain’t enough. Said he’s sick of being useless and wants to know how to protect people. Wants to make up for what happened at the Sanctuary.”

“That’s what they’re all doing though right?” Paul asked. “No matter what their job is. He doesn’t have to fight or hunt to be useful or make up for anything. They do know you think their probation is pretty much over now don’t they?”

Daryl grinned. “Nah, haven’t said it outright yet. Wanted them to sweat a bit first. Think they all know though since they’ve started givin’ me backtalk.”

That was true, Paul had been in stitches watching Daryl get some well deserved shit from them all at dinner one night. There was always an undercurrent of genuine affection there though that nobody ever expected. Funny how the world turned out sometimes.

“It ain’t about that though,” Daryl continued, voice loosing its humour. “It was somethin’ else that happened, somethin’ he hadn’t said before. He had a wife at the Sanctuary, they got picked up together. Told me she was always the one to take down the walkers before, that she was brave and strong.”

Daryl’s eyes looked shadowed, the way they always did when he thought or talked about the Sanctuary. Paul just played with his hair more, letting him know he was there.

“They got picked up fairly early on, thought they’d made it big. Didn’t take em long to realise that weren’t the case. Since he’s always been fuckin’ useless with fighting they put him on points counting, then monitoring the supplies and controlling the records. Turns out he has a head for numbers. His wife they sent out scavenging with a group, looking for people, clearing walkers and all that.”

From Daryl’s face, he knew it wasn’t going to be a happy story. Bruce never mentioned having a wife, but his sad looks at the couples at Hilltop now made sense. With a sigh, Daryl continued.

“One day somethin’ went wrong. She came back with a fucked up leg. Their doc did his best but she’d be stuck limping and in pain for the rest of her life. Since she couldn’t do her job no more, they were both working for points, doing whatever they could do.

“She needed meds but they couldn’t afford it. So Bruce, he used what he’s got, his brain. Started messing with the books, altering things so he could sneak her painkillers. Worked for a little while but... shit like that don’t last long at the Sanctuary. You always get caught out. And punished.”

Daryl knew that all too well, something that still made Paul’s blood boil. He could do nothing about it but be there for Daryl, though it never felt enough.

“Negan got told and dragged them into the middle of the hall. Make an example of them like he always liked to do. He was gunna put them both out on the fence but she begged for Bruce to be left alone. Told Negan he was smart, that they needed his brains. Negan agreed, probably because he knew it’d fuck with Bruce more to be honest. They held him back whilst they dragged his wife out to work the fence.”

Paul’s stomach dropped. He remembered that fence, remembered how it looked like the gates of hell.

“It was a tough job anyway, plenty got bit. With her leg though, it was a death sentence and they all knew it. Negan made him _watch_ ,” he growled out, pure hate in his eye.

“He pushed Bruce against the window and made him watch as she was put on the fence with a tiny bit of pipe. She didn’t last more than ten minutes. Bruce saw Simon loosen some of the walkers chains before he left her to it.”

Paul winced, hands stopping their movement. “Fucking hell.”

It wasn’t enough for the situation, but it was all he could think to say. The thought of having to watch Daryl walk to his death, to watch him get torn apart and be unable to do anything was his worst nightmare. He couldn’t help but lean down and kiss Daryl’s forehead, the fact the other man didn’t even fake grumble was a sign of how bad the story had affected him. No matter what he said to the contrary, everyone knew Daryl had a soft spot now for his group.

“After, he didn’ see no point in resisting. Just did what he was told. Don’t blame him. He couldn’ save her ya know? That eats at ya. Fuck, if anythin’ like that happened with you...”

He trailed off looking sick to his stomach. Leaning down once again, Paul pressed a firm kiss to his lips. “It won’t,” he whispered, pulling back just far enough to breathe it against his lips. “It won’t ever happen, not like that.”

They kissed again, Paul sure that Daryl was playing that scenario over in his head just like Paul was. Daryl reached for his hand, holding it tight in his and resting them over his chest. Paul could feel Daryl’s heart like that, the strong beat always settling him quicker than anything else.

They stayed that way for a few moments, just kissing and breathing together, taking comfort in the fact they were both alive and had each other. Still, Paul knew Daryl would slip into a dark mood if he was left to dwell on it much longer so he straightened up, his free hand returning to Daryl’s hair as he gave it a gentle tug.

“You still haven’t said how you ended up covered in mud. Don’t think I’ve forgotten Dixon, I want to know. Surprised the watch didn’t shoot you on sight! If the dead can start walking then mud monsters aren’t _that_ much of a stretch!”

His gentle teasing made Daryl roll his eyes. “Yeah yeah, was gettin’ to it. Sure ya don’t wanna get some food first? Go babysit Hershel? Take a month long scoutin’ trip?”

“Spit it out, asshole.”

“Urgh. Well after he told me that, he said he wants to learn proper. How to take down walkers, take down people and all that. How to protect people. Didn’ wanna trust him with a gun yet, more likely to shoot himself than anythin’ else, so I took him out with a few of them long daggers and spears Earl just made. Went into the woods a little way since there’s been the odd walker about, thought it’d be good to let him get some actual experience and not just theory.”

At Daryl’s groan, Paul couldn’t help but smirk. “I take it it was a bad idea then?”

“Oh the worst. Was showing him some drills, stuff he could practice on his own to get used to havin’ a weapon when we saw a walker come at us. It was a fuckin’ scrawny thing, one arm an’ everything. Told him to go at it, that I was just backup and well, he went at it all right.

“Don’t ask me how but I ended up gettin’ my ass kicked more than the damn walker! Was right behind him in case he froze but instead he just lost any trainin’ I’d managed to get into him! Swung the fuckin’ spear at it instead of stabbing and went right over it and smacked _me_ round the head instead! Then he pulled back to stab it and caught me in my damn chest! Pushed me ass backwards into a mudbank!”

Paul burst out laughing, the indignant look on Daryl’s face coupled with that beautiful mental image just cracked him up. The elbow that dug into his ribs only made him cackle harder.

“Yeah laugh it up prick. Finally crawled my ass outta the mud, worried sick and saw him standing over the walker all triumphant and lookin’ around for me! Asshole didn’t even realised he’d got me more than the walker!”

Paul tried to stop his giggles. “And i’m sure he was _very_ sorry about it.”

“Hell no! Said I shouldn’t have been in the way then! Managed to get an apology in the end though... after he took a sudden and accidental tumble into the mud too.”

Paul started cackling again, a warm feeling in his chest whenever he saw or heard about Daryl being playful or lighthearted. There was a time when he’d never have done something like that, more likely to stomp off in a mood or never have even put himself in that situation in the first place. According to Maggie, he was finally starting to act like the Daryl he’d been back at the prison, something that continually made Daryl’s family all but misty eyed with joy.

Paul managed to stop laughing, gazing down at the softly smiling Daryl with a heart fit to burst. He fucking loved that man. They’d not said the words yet but they were on the same page, showing their feelings rather than saying it. Maybe one day that’d change, maybe it wouldn’t, but no matter what Paul knew they felt it and that was all that mattered. Daryl was it for him, he felt it in his very bones.

“What ya lookin’ all sappy for huh?”

Paul smiled. “Oh, you know.”

“Yeah,” Daryl relied, voice soft and eyes unbearably fond. “I do.”

The kept looking at each other for a few moments before Paul patted him on the chest.

“Come on, up. We’re having an early night.”

Daryl looked confused as he moved to let Paul up. “Early night? You that tired or somethin’?”

“Nope,” Paul threw over his shoulder as he moved toward the bed.

“Then why are yo- _oh_.”

Paul couldn’t help but laugh at Daryl’s voice when the penny dropped. Even after all the time they’d been together, he could still miss the vast majority of ‘subtle’ hints Paul sent him. It was just one of the many things he found so endearing about the man.

And if in the morning Paul got up early to give a certain Bruce a proper lesson in self defence, well, he was just doing his part for the rehabilitation program.

**Author's Note:**

> One of Jendavis’ prompts that ended up taking far too fucking long to do! Sorry babes!! Hope you enjoy it! I first started writing this before the finale so I just ended up being vague on what occurred since I couldn’t be arsed doing anything to make it fit canon. So just roll with it :) 
> 
> Back into the swing of writing Desus again so there’s plenty more fics to come. Really hope you enjoy it and please drop me a comment. Those things keep me going I swear to God xxxx


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